


Bloom

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Festivals, Love Confession, M/M, Proposals, honestly very sweet tbqh, post fates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 00:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Laslow just wants a sign, any sign at all, that Saizo has feelings for him too. He gets a pretty big sign....Written for A Man For Flowers, an Inigo/Laslow shipping zine!





	Bloom

Some people, upon realizing they are in love, might wonder how they got there. Laslow doesn’t wonder so much; he knows exactly where he came from and what events led him to this. It’s not even a startling revelation. The only thing startling to him is how easily his heart accepted it.

 

Since the war ended, a greater than average amount of Laslow’s time is spent standing at attention outside the traditional doors of the Shirasagi conference room. With his hands folded behind his back and his legs straight, he half-listens through the door to the negotiations being made between Hoshido and Nohr… and he half-daydreams about what he could be doing instead. 

Saizo is often positioned beside him. As the first retainers to their lieges, they are of equal stature and hold equal responsibility. That said… Saizo looks taller and prouder to be there. He doesn’t look bored. He doesn’t look like he’s daydreaming. He doesn’t look at Laslow.

But Laslow looks at him. He finds himself caught up staring. There’s something mysterious about Saizo. The sort of mystery that begs to be solved. There’s more to Saizo than meets the eye. He’s tragically gorgeous, for one thing. Laslow used to think he didn’t deserve those good looks if he was going to waste them, but he knows better now. Sure, Saizo is a Grumpy Gus, but he’s only protecting his liege. Past that outer layer of unforgiving silence or judgmental grunting… well, he’s a funny guy.

He’s got this sense of humor that displays itself in subtle ways. Little snorts that are so quiet, Laslow almost misses them, or the crinkle of his eyes when he’s hiding a smile behind that mask. Laslow has seen it more than once when they’ve talked. Even just the thought of that twinkle in his eyes makes Laslow’s heart flip flop in his chest. Yes, Laslow knows he’s been thoroughly charmed.  

Incredible how Saizo can leave Laslow’s heart racing with just a glance, but he doesn’t even seem to have  _ noticed  _ Laslow. Maybe he’s just too focused on work. Maybe Laslow should take after him. But then, out of seemingly nowhere, Saizo asks Laslow to attend a festival with him.

 

Being so charmed is the primary reason he agrees to attend. That, and the swell of irrational hope that maybe this is something of a date. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Saizo had feelings for Laslow, too?

 

He would do just about anything Saizo asked of him, simply because of the feelings brewing in his heart, and that’s why he agrees to wear a yukata. Even if he’s shy to wear it out, he has to admit it’s gorgeous. Grey-ocean blue with white and gold flowers on it, like they’re floating across waves. He takes a deep breath and steps into the hall. He’ll find Saizo, and they’ll go on their maybe-date. 

 

Instead, he walks right into Saizo’s chest. “Bwah!” he squawks. He takes a step back into the doorway. 

 

“Does it always take you this long to get ready?” Saizo asks. 

 

Laslow’s eyes catch on his mouth. No mask. Well, of course not. He’s attending a festival and he’s off duty and it wouldn’t go well with his yukata, either. Saizo looks so good it puts Laslow to shame. His yukata is wine red and flowers trail up embroidered brown patterns like they’re blooming along the branches of a tree. 

 

“Were...” Laslow tries to swallow the cotton in his mouth. “Were you waiting out here the whole time?”  _ Confidence _ , he convinces himself. He raises his arms and turns in a slow circle for Saizo to admire. “Well, since you waited so long, how do I look? Like I’ll win the hearts of every fair lady in attendance?” 

 

Saizo’s lips pull into a sideways smile. Laslow’s heart skips a beat. He’s sure that given a moment longer his pupils would have actually turned into little hearts, but Saizo speaks up. “You look good enough. This isn’t one of your contests.” 

 

“This time,” Laslow mumbles. “Though, if it were, I would win. You’re not wearing your mask; that was your secret weapon.” Not really. Saizo is twice as gorgeous without that mask. 

 

He grunts and Laslow smiles. They begin to walk towards the festival. “So,” he continues, “will you tell me more about this festival you’ve asked me to attend? You said you thought I might like it, but I’m not even certain what it’s meant to celebrate.” 

 

“In the spring, the cherry blossoms bloom,” Saizo answers. Laslow is oh so tempted to reach for his hand… but he doesn’t. As they approach the square, it’s lively and loud. “The festival celebrates the flowers. They remind us that beauty and new beginnings come no matter how cold the winter.” 

 

“Oh.” Laslow thinks that’s lovely. He’s seen some hard winters in his life, after all. Harder times than most people would even dream of.

 

“There is also tea,” Saizo adds belatedly.  

 

Laslow snorts. “Well, I do love tea. That’s it! I’m sold. So long as I have someone to try it with me, that is.” 

 

Saizo grunts. He’s quiet after that. Laslow’s heard him talk over and over again about how he doesn’t go to teahouses. He doesn’t prefer to drink fancy tea, only a cup of green tea in the morning and before bed. For his health. It’s alright, because Laslow is certain he’ll try it. 

 

People are bustling around the town square. The air smells sweet, like the bushels of cut flowers, but it also smells like fried foods. It’s almost overwhelming but somehow exciting. Two dancers twist around nearby to the music of a band. They dance with sashes, flowers sewn into them, and as they twirl, it’s like they’re surrounded by blossoms. 

 

“They’re absolutely incredible,” Laslow says. Saizo grumbles something… and Laslow laughs. “Ah! For once, I’m not trying to charm anyone. I mean their dance.” Every step they take comes with the swing of their hips and the graceful twirl of their arms. “My mother used to travel with a troupe like this. Before I was born, she was renowned for her talent and beauty.” 

 

“Oh?” Saizo asks. He doesn’t take take his eyes off the performers either, but Laslow can hear the newfound curiosity in his voice. “I haven’t heard you speak of your mother before.” 

 

“Truly?” Laslow asks. “I should be ashamed of myself. She’s the most incredible woman I ever had the pleasure to have loved.” She would have loved to see a festival like this.

 

He turns away from the dancers and bumps into Saizo’s side gently while they walk into the small sea of people. The sad effort at flirting goes unnoticed, and Saizo just says, “She’s passed away, then.” 

 

“When I was a boy. But she lives on in my heart. I try to keep her dance alive, but I’m hardly as talented as she was. I couldn’t even dream to be as talented as her.” 

 

“Ah,” Saizo realizes. “That dance you sneak out at night to perform is your mother’s?” 

 

Laslow’s heart sinks all the way down into his stomach. “Wh—” He tries not to look  _ completely _ mortified. “You’ve seen me?” 

 

“It is my duty to know what is going on at all times. It is how I protect Lord Ryoma,” Saizo explains. Or, at least, he tries to explain. It doesn’t make a lick of sense to Laslow.

 

“Protect him from  _ what?!”  _ Laslow’s voice cracks. “A dancing man? Please tell me you didn’t see me do something terribly embarrassing.” 

 

“All I saw was dancing,” Saizo says. It’s probably the truth, and even though Laslow knows that Saizo sees  _ everything, _ he chooses to pretend to believe that. No doubt he saw him trip or fall or something mortifying. He clears his throat and tries to rub his blush away with his hands.

 

He doesn’t even pull his hands from his face while he mumbles, “You mentioned something about tea?”

 

Saizo chuckles and Laslow  _ melts _ while he guides him to a woman selling tea. The pots at this booth are all clear glass instead of ceramic. Laslow bends down to get a better look when he realizes they have flowers floating inside them. 

 

“They blossom,” the clerk explains. She sets a steaming, clear pot of water down. She drops a ball of tea leaves into the steaming pot and Laslow is entirely mesmerized. 

 

“Saizo,” he says, and gently tugs on Saizo’s sleeve. “Look at this. I’ve never seen tea like this before.” Laslow finds a smile spreading over his face. Slowly the ball expands into a pink rose. Saizo steps closer to Laslow than expected while he watches. For a moment, their shoulders are pressed together, and Laslow forgets about the tea. Instead, he’s thinking about how Saizo smells and how he sounds. He’s thinking of the way he smiled earlier. “We should have some.” Laslow’s voice cracks while he drags himself out of the beginnings of fantasy.

 

“None for me,” Saizo says. “I don’t like frilly teas. They’re too sweet.” 

 

Laslow stands up straighter and he arches his brow up as high as he can. How can he say that? How can he stand in front of a booth full of tea made in such an incredible way and imply that he doesn’t want to try it? “Rose tea isn’t inherently sweet. Floral, yes, but I think you’ll like it.” 

 

“You’d like some?” the woman asks.

 

Laslow nods his head. “Yes. Two please.” He catches Saizo roll his eye, and then chuckles while he pays the woman. “So picky… Whatever will you do when I’m right and you actually enjoy it?” 

 

“Unlikely.” Saizo is such a grump! But there’s just something unfairly charming about it. Saizo doesn’t intimidate Laslow at all. When the rose-scented tea is passed to him, he passes a cup to Saizo as well. 

 

Laslow waits patiently. He stares at Saizo until he finally tries it and brings his own tea to his lips just to smell. “Mm,” he says. “It’s like walking through a flower garden.” It tastes like it, too. It’s naturally sweet enough to balance the floral taste, but it doesn’t taste like sugar. “Do you like it?” Laslow asks. 

 

Saizo presses his lips into a tight line. He says nothing, but he takes another sip of the tea and a smile blossoms across Laslow’s face. “I told you so. You can tell me how brilliant I am.”

 

“It’s not the worst I’ve ever had,” Saizo answers. It’s sweet music to Laslow’s ears. 

 

“I’m glad you like it,” he says instead of rubbing it in. Rubbing it in would be fun, but Laslow just finds himself relieved. Maybe this means he can convince Saizo to go out for tea with him sometime? It would be nice. He’s just finished his tea when he notices Saizo is staring at him. “Oh. What’s next, Mr. Sourface?” he asks. Saizo does make a face, and Laslow chuckles. 

 

He expects to be led to another booth, but instead, Saizo guides him away from the festivities altogether. Worry settles in Laslow’s gut. Maybe this is the end of their outing? Saizo doesn’t stop walking until they’re in a field of wildflowers. They’re tall and sway like an ocean when the breeze catches them. The trees around them are flowering with pink cherry blossoms on low hanging branches. “Oh,” Laslow mumbles. “I haven’t been out this way before. This is lovely. Why isn’t anyone else out here?” 

 

He drags his fingertips along the branch of one of the trees. It’s thick and level with his waist, and a part of him wonders if it would support his weight. The rest of him is caught up in the gruff but still somehow gentle tone of Saizo’s voice. 

 

“They forget. Celebrating the flowers and spring… they forget that once they’re cut, they are already dead.” Saizo takes a step closer to Laslow. Exceptionally close, actually. Close enough that Laslow does push himself up to take a seat on that branch. 

 

His mouth falls open in a tiny, confused ‘o’. “Saizo?” 

 

“I brought you here to give you this gift,” Saizo says. Good. Very direct. Saizo always is, and in this case Laslow is thankful. He sways a little bit on the branch until his weight settles and he can properly reach out and accept a small box. It’s wrapped in a sheet of decorative paper and tied with twine. Laslow stares down at it before abruptly feeling guilty. 

 

“I didn’t know this was a gift-giving occasion,” he admits. Maybe he should have done more research on the festival before he just wandered into it. He plucks the twine open and the paper unfolds not unlike the flower in the teacup. He finds a bracelet inside. 

 

It’s simple but still decorative. Laslow picks it up and admires it. There’s a gold clip with something inscribed in Hoshidan, but he doesn’t know the written language. “This is…” he begins, uncertain. It feels special. “Quite lovely.” 

 

“I made it.” Saizo reaches for it and Laslow holds out his wrist for him to put the bracelet on. 

 

It feels like it carries much more significance than a flower festival. “You didn’t have to make this for me,” Laslow says, “but I would never have known. It looks professionally made! It must have taken you quite some time…” 

 

This feels like a romantic gesture, and wouldn’t that just be amazing? Laslow has been looking,  _ desperately looking, _ for any signs that Saizo might feel the same. Before being asked to this festival, he never found one.

 

The gentle weight of the bracelet on his wrist is accompanied by Saizo’s hand and his fingers fiddling with it. The wind picks up and a couple of pink flowers drift down. Even sitting in the tree, he’s hardly above eye level with Saizo. Saizo, who, for the record, is staring at Laslow. Staring with a steady gaze that rightfully puts a blush on Laslow’s face. 

 

“Ninja of Igasato have long-standing traditions. I admit some of these traditions are outdated. Even my own brother overlooks them, but I hold on to them. Tradition helps us remember ourselves.” 

 

Laslow overlaps Saizo’s hand with his own. He’s holding his hand! It’s a bold move. “Keeping the traditions of our families alive isn’t something to be ashamed of.” 

 

“I am not ashamed,” Saizo says. “This bracelet is one such tradition. Ninja uniform is relatively strict. Covering one’s hands is not a requirement, as it impacts how you hold your weapon, but the wrist is always to be covered and protected. Even the most incompetent ninja can target the wrist.”

 

Saizo holds Laslow’s gaze while he talks, but Laslow isn’t shy anymore. He’s more curious than embarrassed. What exactly should Laslow be doing with one of Saizo’s traditions? How does a bracelet tie into this story? “O...kay?” he says. He tries not to hang onto the image of someone throwing a knife at his wrist for any longer than he has to. “I’m certain there’s more to this story? Something less gruesome even?” 

 

Saizo smirks. Laslow melts.  _ Okay _ , he thinks.  _ You can talk about bleeding to death as long as you smile like that.  _

 

“When your hands are uncovered, it tells a story about who you are. Most importantly, it puts on display if you are wearing a wedding band.” 

 

Laslow’s ears buzz. His brain jumps ahead of the conversation. He looks down at the bracelet on his wrist again. 

 

Saizo continues. “Of course, that a man or woman is married is often an indicator that they have a very specific weakness. For that reason, it became tradition for ninja to wear a bracelet instead. One that can be covered, and remains unseen just as our bare wrists are. It protects those we love from our enemies.” 

 

If Laslow looks startled, it’s because he’s been looking for a sign that Saizo cares for him even a little bit. This is a little bit more than he bargained for, but that’s not a bad thing. Is it?

 

His expression melts into a smile so wide it hurts. “Saizo the Fifth.” His tone is light now that he knows what’s happening in this flower field. “Are you proposing marriage? To a ‘fop’ like me?”

 

Saizo grunts at the tail end of that and Laslow’s smile twitches even wider. He slides his hands up, both of them, to hold Saizo’s face. His handsome, bare face that makes butterflies dance inside Laslow. Saizo leans in closer. Laslow knows now there must have been a million signs that Saizo cares for him. He was simply a dunce and missed them all. And marriage? To go from nothing to everything in one breath is a lot to ask, but Laslow has historically always been willing to risk a lot in the name of love.

 

“You can add my name to the list of hearts you’ve won. I suppose this means you’ve finally beaten me at my own game.” Well, he defeated Laslow at his game more than once. Laslow doesn’t give him a moment for rebuttal. He just leans that last touch closer and slots their lips together in a kiss.

 

Rationally speaking, Saizo didn’t ask to be kissed and Laslow isn’t sure what the rules are for this brand-new relationship, but he doesn’t pull away. Saizo brings his arms to comfortably wrap around Laslow’s back. He returns the kiss with a gentleness that doesn’t surprise Laslow so much as it warms him from the inside out. Eventually, he pulls his lips away to mumble, “This isn’t a contest… but if it were, I would win again,” one more time before he chases Laslow’s lips for another kiss. 

 

A kiss Laslow’s laugh interrupts. “Ha! You’re so full of yourself.” 

 

This will be the wildest thing he ever does, and he knows there are a million details to sort out, but kissing his soon-to-be husband right now is certainly the best decision of Laslow’s life. 


End file.
